Out of the Frying Pan and into the-- Huh?
by MurderousMottie
Summary: Merlin has had it up to his overly large ears. First, he waits centuries for his best friend to return from the dead, and then, after all this time, it turns out that he was never in Heaven at all, but in Purgatory, and the Winchesters decide to help the centuries old sorcerer find his long lost friend. And what's up with peanut butter?
1. Still Punchin'

Arthur was tired. Tired beyond words, beyond belief, beyond possibility. He had fought for a long time, fighting anything that moved in this dark, twisted reality he called his abode. Purgatory.

Arthur sat by the stream, sharpening his sword with a whetstone. The repeated, familiar action had calmed him all these years, reminding him of happier times, though all the while filling him with nostalgia for friends long left behind, or lost. Merlin, Gwen, Morgana, Father, Leon, Lancelot, Gaius, Gwaine… It had been hundreds of years by now, but the pain was still there. Still there, after all this time, along with all the regret, the guilt.

Shhhhnk. Shhhhnk. Shhhhnk. He held the blade up to the depressingly grey light and inspected the razor edge, wondering how long it had been since he had heard his best friend's voice, or felt the loving touch of his wife, or seen his sister smile. It does not do you well to dwell on these things, Arthur. He chastised himself, but couldn't keep the thoughts from his head. Just focus on getting through another day. He snorted at his own thoughts derisively. I don't think there's even a such thing as a day here.

He heard a crackling in the brush nearby, he pocketed the whetstone, and raised his sword. Here we go again.

-000-

"Merlin…" A raspy voice called. "Merlin…" Beckoning him. "Merlin…" Reminding him. "MERLIN." The voice roared, and Merlin sat bolt upright in his bed, shaking and sweating. He fell back on the musty-smelling mattress, and turned the iridescent alarm clock towards himself. 5:52 AM, it read. Merlin sighed, and dragged himself out of the motel bed, thinking for the third time that week how much he missed his little cabin, and pondering as to who the voice in his dream could be. He fumbled around in the dark for the light switch, and headed to the bathroom to get ready for another probably disappointing day.

Merlin looked in the mirror, studying his face for any signs that the youth potion was fading. He pressed the towel to his damp raven-black hair, and thought how odd it was after all these years, he had had to come to America of all places to save Arthur. The place hadn't even been discovered when he and Arthur had been in their prime. Well, when Arthur was alive, at least. These Americans may speak the same language but Dear God if I can't even understand some of the things they say. Merlin had had a hard enough time adjusting to modern technologies back home, but America was just so similar, yet different, it gave him a sort of cultural vertigo. Like peanut butter. How did they come up with that? Did some extraordinarily fat person accidentally sit on some peanuts and say "Oh hmm! Let's put that on some bread and have that for lunch!"?

Which wasn't to say that Merlin simply disliked America per sé, just that he had a hard time understanding some of the things they did. Merlin sighed and packed the last of his things into the small roller-luggage thing he had brought with him. He shrugged on his dark jacket, and stepped out the door. He stuffed his pack into the back of the near-decrepit Volkswagen bug he had rescued from a garbage lot, and headed for the open road to find his long lost friend.


	2. Chokehold

Sam had had a weird day. Which was saying something, all things considered. Weird was his and his brother's thing. They did weird for a living. But this was just nuts. Let's take it from the top.

It had all started out fairly normally. The brothers had been sitting at a bar, eating a hearty dinner after a routine hunt, some D-list ghost who had taken a shine to stabbing people while they slept. Dean, of course, was tucking into an oversized burger, and Sam was picking at a Caesar salad.

Sam idly looked around the bar, a slightly dingy but welcoming place, their fellow patrons were a little less rough-and-tumble than they were used to, more like disgruntled middle-classers and overly peppy college students rather than the usual truckers or bikers. His eyes settled on a young loner in a corner booth, with short black hair and a skinny, but lean, build, and though he looked younger than Sam himself, his eyes were wizened with a sort of sad, tired look that he saw all too often in his brother's eyes. As he turned back to Dean though, he could have sworn the kid's eyes flashed yellow as he whispered something to the air. Sam swallowed hard and tried to fight down the unpleasant memories that boiled to the surface. Azazel? No, there's no way he survived. So what is that kid?

"Dean?" He said, keeping his voice low.

"Yeah Sammy?" Dean looked up, eyebrows drawing together, hearing Sam's insistent tone.

"You see that kid in the corner booth?" Dean's eyes slid over to where the kid was sitting, and back to Sam.

"Uh huh. What about him?"

"Well, for a second there, I could have sworn that his eyes turned yellow." An alarmed expression spread over Dean's face.

"So you think-"

"No. Couldn't be. But, Azazel or no, I don't think that guy's human."

"You have the knife?"

"No, I left it in the trunk."

"We follow him out back, I hold him, you exorcise?"

"Sounds good to me."

And so they waited. Finally, after a half hour, the kid paid his bill and left out the front door, and Sam and Dean silently followed behind.

-000-

Merlin sighed. Yet another disappointing day of finding absolutely nothing. He still couldn't contact Arthur's spirit, no matter how hard he tried, he still had no idea how to get him out of Purgatory, or where the gate to Earth from Purgatory was, or anything, really, aside from the fact that A.) Only monsters went to Purgatory. B.) That somehow Arthur was in there, and C.) There had been a case of a human entering Purgatory and escaping, a man known as Dean Winchester, but as of yet, he still had no clue where he was, aside from the fact that he was somewhere in Ohio for the moment, and what were the odds that he would run into him somewhere, just out of the blue? Not likely. Merlin's thoughts were interrupted when someone grabbed him from behind and put a chokehold on him.

"What the-?!" Merlin struggled, his first instinct to slam the rather scarily muscular man against the wall, but stopped himself once he realized the man's rather tall compatriot, who now stood in front of the both of them, was reciting an exorcism. Merlin relaxed a bit, hands still on the man's arms, and waited for the tall man to finish, giving his best "...Really?" face.

"-Audi Nos!" The man concluded grandly, open palm towards him, as though he had been casting a spell. "What the Hell?"

Merlin cocked an eyebrow at him. "You going to let go, or are we still waiting for that nonexistent demon to come hurtling out from my innards?" The tall, long haired one gave a sort of bewildered, upward-palmed shrug to the man near choking him. The man released him, and Merlin half stumbled away, bent over, one hand to his throat.

"Uagh!" He huffed. "You know, in all my years, only a few people have throttled me as…" The words died on his lips, and he looked into the face of the one person who he never thought he'd find.

"Dean Winchester!"

-000-

"...Yeah?" Dean said. At this point in his life, Dean was accustomed to being recognized within the Hunter community, the Winchesters weren't famous for no reason, saving the world, (and maybe sometimes breaking it) but this was a little different than what he was used to. Usually? Hunters would look at he and his brother one of two ways, one, with a sort of mutual respect or near-reverence, two, like they had just puked in the other guy's drink. But the look on this kids face was comparable to if someone had just given him the world. Not to mention the British accent.

"Look, uh- sorry about uh, well, trying to exorcise you, man, uh-" Sam said awkwardly, taking a step towards him.

"No, no it's fine…" The kid said distractedly, barely even glancing at Sam. "Comes with the territory…" He shook his head, as though trying to wake himself from a dream and turned to Sam. "Sorry, I should introduce myself. Merli- Merle. Merle. My name is Merle." He said, extending a hand to Sam. "Sam Winchester, I presume?"

"Yeah, but how'd you-?"

"Oh, um, well, I've actually been looking for your brother for awhile now. Oh, wow I hope that didn't come out too badly. Um." Merle sighed. "I was hoping that you could help me with something."

"And what would that be?" Dean asked.

"Well, I mean, you've been to Purgatory, right?"

"Yeah. Didn't agree with me." Merle's eyes lit up.

"That's fantastic! Oh God! No no that's not fantastic, I mean that's horrible that you were in Purgatory, and all, I'm sorry, I just-" He stopped and snorted. "If Gwen could see me now." He muttered to himself, and looked back at the both of them. "OK. You know what? Forget everything I have said in the past five minutes. My name's Merle. And I need your help to get my friend out of Purgatory."


	3. The Plan

"So- How did your friend get into Purgatory, exactly?" Sam asked. It wasn't an odd question- spot on, actually, seeing as Merlin still had no idea himself.

"I dunno, really." Merlin confessed. "If I'm being honest, I thought he was in Heaven for the longest time. I only found out recently that he wasn't, you know, and- and I owe it to him to at least try and rescue him. He'd've done the same for me." The three of them sat in the booth of a nearby late-night café, the brothers awkwardly sitting opposite from the old warlock. A sort of wistful nostalgia had set into the mage's face, his eyes deep pools of grief, unsettling in a face that seemed so young.

"And how did you find out that your friend was in Purgatory, anyhow? I mean, the only way Sam found out was when I hauled ass out of there myself and knocked on his frickin' front door. What's different with you? And why now, if he's really been dead that long?" Dean asked shrewdly. Sam shifted in his seat, like this was still an uncomfortable memory for him.

"Merle" sighed, obviously already having run these questions past himself at some point or another. "I only know because I've been having these dreams. Of Arthur, fighting monsters in this- grey place. God, they were everywhere. And he's been there all this time-" Merlin's gaze turned steely. "Look. I don't know why. I don't know how. I don't know much more than what I've told you already. All I know is that I need to get him out of there, and I'm going to need your expertise to do it."

Merlin's answer didn't seem to satisfy Dean, but he saw the genuine pain in his eyes, and that was enough for him. Besides, what harm could come to Sam and him for helping a human out of Purgatory?

"Alright, we'll help. Any idea how to contact your friend?"

Merlin's eyes glowed with hope and gratitude, but his voice was somber as he said, "I've tried, actually, but I can't seem to get anything across, and whenever I attempt to call up his spirit, it's like something's, well, blocking me, for whatever reason. Only way I can think of to contact him is to talk to someone else who's already in Purgatory and guide them to him. Unfortunately, I don't think you or I have anyone who is particularly endeared to us down there." Merlin stewed in the silence for a moment before seeing the odd look on Dean's face, and his brother arching an eyebrow at Dean.

"...What?" The warlock asked.

Dean spoke. "Well it just so happens that we do have a friend down there."

Sam added, "But how do we contact him? I mean it's not like we can just pick up a pay phone and say "Hey, Benny, long time no see. Say, would you mind picking up another human who's been stuck there longer than I was and help us out by bring him topside? Thanks buddy."

Merlin replied "You let me worry about the contact, what kind of monster is he?"

"Vampire." Sam answered.

"Ok, that's good, they're a little bit closer to humans than some monsters. Do you have anything that he held dear, anything he loved?"

"Sort of." Dean replied.

"What do you mean "sort of"?"

"Well, its not a thing, per se. It's his great-granddaughter."

Merlin sat for a moment, contemplating. "That could work, better than a possession, in fact, I'd just need a hair or two. You're sure she's his great-granddaughter?"

"Yes."

"Did he love her?" The question hung in the air.

"...Yeah. A lot."

"So where is she?"

This time it was Sam who replied. "Baton Rouge, Louisiana. She moved there after the- uh, incident." Dean looked at his brother questioningly.

"I might've checked up on her when I was tracking Benny." Dean looked like he wanted to say something, but reminded himself that he and his brother had gotten past that issue, and decided against it.

"Right then, so how shall we get there?" Merlin asked. "How 'bout I follow you in my car?"

Dean scoffed. Sam said, "No offense, Merle, but I don't think the Beetle over there is going to last much longer." As if on queue, Merlin saw the small begin to sink low to the ground, and a figure dart away. Merlin sprang from his seat and outside to the parking lot, Sam and Dean behind him. Just in time to see the figure disappear and that the Beetle's tires had been slashed.

Seemingly nonplussed by the fact, Merlin turned to the boys and said. "Who's up for a road trip?"


	4. Fluff and Fold

Merlin had not gotten around much the past couple of centuries. When you are waiting for the England's impending doom to re-awaken your dead best friend, you tend not to stray far from home.

So, predictably, Merlin was still not used to the vast expanse of nothingness known as "The Midwest". To him, the endless unbroken field of grain was extremely boring. Most people in the Midwest would be inclined to agree.

Merlin waved his hand aimlessly out the window, moving it with the current of the wind. No matter how many times he rode in a car, he was mesmerized by how far humanity had truly come. At least, in terms of technology. No matter how far humans went or how intelligent they became, they remained the same. Love, hate, fear, loyalty. The same things had ruled people's motivations in his time ruled people's motivations in this era as well. It was comforting, in a way. Perhaps it was what had kept Merlin sane.

Sam and Dean were currently deep in debate about a very pressing matter. Who would win? Ninjas or Samurai? Merlin listened periodically to their conversation. It went something like-

Dean said, "No way man. Ninjas all the way. They've got stealth on their side."

Sam replied, "Ok, sure. In _some_ situations, they would have the upper hand, but in a face to face confrontation? Not a chance. For one, samurai had way more money, they had the best armor, best swords, and best training that money could buy. Ninjas were _peasants_. Best they had was what they could scrape together."

Dean glanced over at his brother and shook his head.

"What?"

"Nerd."

"Shaddup." Sam said. Dean laughed, and they continued their argument.

Merlin smiled at the two of them from the backseat. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a long trip after all.


	5. Benny Gets A Phone Call

Benny had lived a long life. He considered himself lucky. He had loved, and lost, and lived a life more interesting than most people could claim. He was at peace with himself.

Unfortunately, the rest of vampire-kind did not share his "peaceful" attitude.

Benny pondered this as he stood over the decapitated bodies of three such vampires, his onyx war-axe slick with dark blood. He had to admit though that the un-peacefulness of his peers made life after afterlife exciting. He unceremoniously wiped the excess blood off his axe onto one corpse's shirt.

Benny had kept busy since his last run-in with the Winchesters, he might not have cared all that much for Sam, though he understood his apprehension. He had to admit he missed Dean's banter, someone he could trust at his side. But no point in mourning the living.

Benny was about to move on when he heard a voice, faint as a whisper, but gruff as the bark of an old tree. "Benny?"

"Dean?"

"Benny, you there?" The voice had grown louder, clearer. It was definitely Dean.

"Dean. I swear if you got your sorry butt stuck down here again I am not dragging you back out." Benny's accent twanged a bit at the thought of his friend being there.

Dean laughed at this. "Good to hear your voice, Benny. I hear Purgatory's nice this time of year."

Benny considered the dead vamps. "It has its highs and lows."

"I'll bet it does. Listen, Benny, I need a favor."

"I'll bet you do."

"Look I'm sorry Ben, but--"

"No, hey, I get it. There ain't exactly any cell service in Purgatory, and it's good to hear from you any old how. So what's this favor?"

"It's a long story. But the barebones is that there's another human in Purgatory and we need you to get him out."

"What?! Another human? Dean, trust me, if there had been another human here aside from your ugly mug I would've known by now."

"Look, Benny, I know it's strange, but you gotta trust me on this one."

"On whose authority?"

Another voice entered the conversation, this one younger-sounding and British. "Mine."

"And who exactly are you?" Benny asked the air.

"His name's Merle. He's a hunter, Benny, says his friend was sent to Purgatory instead of the other afterlives, and that he's been having dreams about it."

"And? You're usually hard to persuade unless you see something with your own two peepers, Dean."

"He described some areas in Purgatory I'd been to; Benny, as well as a couple of monsters that we left for the birds."

"And?"

"The- something that happened with Cas. As we left Purgatory, Benny. In detail."

"And you didn't strangle him?"

"Not for lack of trying." Merle piped.

"Yeah, anyways-- Benny, could you do me a solid? I wouldn't ask you if the idea of another poor sumbitch down there wasn't bugging me."

"Fine, Dean, fine. I'll do it. Just quit blubberin'; I'm starting ta' think you're getting soft."

"Thank you." Merle said. Benny could hear the smile in his voice.

"No problem. Ain't like I got anything better to do. Now, how 'bout we get to findin' this friend of yours?"


	6. Sleeping Beauty

Arthur leaned against the tree as the world around him heaved and spun. His hands quaked and his chest heaved, heart beating against his rib cage as though trying to break free.

That monster… it looked so much like him. So so much like him. But- but the the teeth and the claws and the snarl and the eyes and the oh dear God the eyes-

The world heaved again, and so did Arthur.

His eyes. He could still remember them. Bright, happy, and worried. Worried? So so worried. About him… about… him?

Blood. There was blood on his clothes. They were soaked with monster blood. Drained, he dragged himself to the riverside. He took off his cloak and dipped it into the river. Watched as his shredded cloak, half gone after years of fighting, dyed the water red. A light breeze made the tree branches whistle and the trunks groan. The water burbled against the rocks. Camelot's forests had made those noises once. Trees, water. But that was all that this forsaken place and his home had in common. No, in Arthur's home, there was birdsong, light, game, friends. Friends…

Twigs snapped and leaves crackled underfoot. The sound was close. Damn!

Arthur wrapped his still-damp cloak around his arm as quietly as he could and hid behind a large stump that sat near the river.

-000-

"Hey! Look! Listen!"

"I heard you the first damned time you blazing ball of swamp gas!" Benny exclaimed. "Jee-sus. Merle, are you sure this darn thing ain't off its tiny rocker?"

The small blue light bobbed innocently in the gray twilight and repeated the message for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour.

"The spell's fine, Benny, it just means you're getting closer." Merle said, himself tired of hearing the light's near-constant message.

Benny harrumphed, unconvinced.

He walked a little farther, and when he got closer to the river he had been following for some time, the light became agitated, bobbing up and down and repeating the message at an expedited rate.

"Hey look listen! Hey look listen! Hey look listen!" Benny shushed the light, and it quieted, much to the surprise of all listening.

In the distance, the _clang_ - _schlock_ of weapon upon weapon, and weapon on flesh rang out. Benny edged through the forest as quick as he could without making a sound.

After some time, he came to a clearing by the river. What Benny saw was awe-inspiring, despite the vampire's generations long experience with violence.

Before him lay piles of bodies. Werewolf, vampire, wendigo, leviathan, dragon, ghoul. What seemed like near the whole gamut of monsters in purgatory had converged here, only to be slaughtered.

Two figures were in the center of the field, the ground slick with blood. They fought viciously, one with a sword, and one with tooth and claw. But it ended when the destined victor thrust his sword through the vampire's throat and _tore_ it's head clear off and dropped it to the ground beside him.

The blade, once forged in dragon's breath, had now been tempered in the primal instinct of survival, and the sorrow of a great wizard. The sword of the once and past king, was now an instrument of destruction for all that stood defiantly in its path. The sword's fuel? One of the most powerful emotions on this earth and any other. Righteous anger.

The wielder of the blade stood tall in the clearing; clothes and face dripping with blood and sweat, a wildfire burning brightly in his eyes.

"Uhhh Merle?" Benny whispered, hiding behind a large tree.

"Yes?" Merle replied, anticipating.

"Does your guy happen to have a beard, a red cloak, and carry a really big sword?"

Merlin's voice caught. "Yes. Well, um, the- the beard would be new, but uh, the cloak and the sword sounds about right."

"Good. Good." Benny, however, was not good. Instinct, experience, and good common sense told him that if he stepped out from that tree, he would die for the third time in his existence. And this one might be a bit more permanent. Fortunately for all involved, Benny had something more on his side.

Benny steeled himself. "Ready Merle?"

"Ready." Merlin closed his eyes and concentrated.

Benny stepped from behind the tree, hand raised at the age-old warrior and spoke in unison with Merlin. " _Slæpan."_

Arthur dropped like a sack of potatoes, the exhaustion and the spell both working their magic on him.

Benny walked over to the sleeping man, scooped him and his sword up, and began carrying him to Earth's gate.


End file.
